


Love Grows

by 74days



Series: Zimbits Meet-Cute Au's [2]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, F/M, First Meetings, M/M, Magical Realism, Meet-Cute, Mythical Beings & Creatures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2019-06-12 02:04:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15329280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/74days/pseuds/74days
Summary: Jack is a dragon without a hoard and Eric is a baker without much of a social life.





	Love Grows

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dragonscrawl](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=dragonscrawl).



Eric woke up with a groan and slammed his hand against the alarm that jolted him out of a very lovely dream where he was sitting in a field of wildflowers, watching a lazy bumble bee bounce from bloom to bloom, drunk on the sun and dusted with pollen. 

He didn’t even need to open his eyes to know that the rain was hammering against the window in a constant flow that, yup, made the urge to pee even stronger than normal. 

He was always the first to wake up, but that certainly wasn’t from choice - owning a bakery resulted in the most antisocial hours known to man or beast, but at least he had the satisfaction of owning a bakery. 

When he was little, his mamma always told him that he was made for being in the sunshine, and he guessed she wasn’t wrong - but getting out of Georgia was the best thing that ever happened to him. Even if it did mean that he woke up in the dark most mornings. 

His little apartment was decorated with one thing in mind - warmth and comfort. Rugs, throws, cushions and soft lighting dominated the tiny space that wasn’t the kitchen - where potted plants lined every window, reaching for what little light they could get. As he walked through, blindly reaching for the coffee maker, a few mint leaves turned gently towards him, as the lavender swayed gently, brushing his arm as he reached for his favorite mug. The scent made him sigh, “Oh please, baby girl, I’m tired enough,” as he carefully rotated the pots, ensuring that what little light that did reach through the window was equally shared. “You all look so lovely today,” He said, as the pot bubbled and the smell of coffee wafted through the tiny room. “Especially you, Lady Wasabi, don’t think I can’t see you hiding in the back.” He smiled softly. “Little diva.” She didn’t seem to move towards him, like the rest, but Eric had long ago given up trying to get a reaction out of that particular plant. Unlike the rest of his ‘garden’ she seemed immune to his charms - however, she hadn’t yet died, which Eric was eternally grateful for. When one of his plants died he felt miserable for days, and the his mood affected everyone around him. 

“Today,” He told the empty room, “I am going to smile at everyone wearing yellow, and I’m not going to let Shitty bully me into talking to his highly illegal garden.”

* * *

 

“Good morning, Mrs North.” Eric smiled, already reaching for the rose and lavender pastries that the older woman bought every day. “The usual?” 

The woman nodded, thin, dry lips pressed together. She was wearing a little corsage of wilting flowers that perked up when Bitty leaned forward to look at them. “Oh, I see you have some new flowers this morning.” He smiled up at her white eyes. “They look very nice, not everyone can pull off Chrysanthemums like you can.” 

Of course, she didn’t reply, but as she passed the tip jar, Eric heard the distinct click of a heavy coin - she managed the transition to visa easily enough but she still tipped in solid gold coins, which he had to take once a month to the appraisers.

When she left, Dex glanced over at Eric and rolled his eyes. “You know she never says anything.” He pointed out. “You can just serve her and she’ll still tip.”

“Just because she’s dead, Dex, doesn’t mean she doesn’t have feelings. I know you were at that rally the other day for undead rights.” 

The redhead blushed darker than normal. “Because Nur-” 

“Uh huh. Because Nursey made you go.” Eric finished for him. “Probably made you sign a hundred different petitions too. Forced you.” He paused, enjoying the way that his favorite employee could no longer look him in the eye, how his skin had mottled red and pink. “Terrible. Using his siren power on you. I should ban him.” 

The bell over the door gave a little tinkle, muffled by the way the ivy had grown up and around the ball inside, and without even turning around, Eric knew who was there. 

“No.” He said, leaning down and picking up a pre-boxed selection of pie from under the counter, where they had been waiting for this particular customer. “So please don’t even ask.” The slightly odd sound of ‘clip’ on the linoleum floor only confirmed his suspicions.

“Bitty. Bro.” 

“No, Shitty.” He said, standing up and holding out the boxes. “I’ve already said no.” A sigh escaped his lips. “Would it kill you to put a shirt on?”

Shitty managed to look hurt at the same time as he made grabby hand motions to the boxes in Erics hands. “As a proud advocate of Faun, Satyrs and Glaistig, you know my stance on how the man has made our proud, noble races uncomfortable in our own skins.” He paused. “Also, like, I hate shirts, bro.” 

“This is a bakery. Where I serve food. No shirt, no service.”

“That’s specist.” Shitty said, eyes twinkling. They had the same argument most days. 

“I’m not asking you to wear shoes.” Bitty pointed out. “Or even pants - which I expect my other customers to wear, I might add.” 

“How about…” Shitty started, and Eric already knew what was coming. 

“No.”

“Hear me out!” The Faun laughed. “How about I put this shirt on, which I have conveniently in my fanny pack… and you agree to come back to my place today and have like, lunch with me and Lardo and like… just… you know… commune.”

“Commune.” Eric stated, looking unimpressed. “With, I assume, whatever it is you are currently trying to grow?”

“And like, meet a couple of people.” He held up his hands. “Awesome people, who like Lards has already vetted to the  _ max _ .” 

“I have to work.” 

He should have known that Dex was just waiting to get him back for his earlier teasing. 

“Don’t worry about that, Bitty - You totally covered for me when I took the time do go to the Undead Rights Rally with Nursey. I owe you one.”

“Awesome bro!” Shitty said, pulling out a shirt from (good lord, an actual fanny pack) which was just as highly obnoxious as Bitty had been expecting, and pulling it on. He deliberately misaligned the buttons as he did it up, grinning hugely as he watched Eric flounder. “5pm tonight - totes casual. You don’t have to bring anything.”

“I have never entered into someone's home without some kind of pie, Mr Knight, and you know that fine well.” 

“See you at 5, Bits.” Shitty grinned, paying a smirking Dex for the pie boxes. 

* * *

 

Jack lay, face first on the floor of his overly large apartment and sighed, twisting his head to look at Lardo, who had sprawled out beside him and was currently making her paintbrush move around the paper without touching it. When he focused on what what was drawing, he couldn’t help the smile. It was a picture of him, wearing yellow running shoes and laying on the floor. It was done in such a way that he looked like an oversized baby, kicking his feet, with comically large teardrops coming out of his eyes. 

“I’m gonna call it, ‘I don’t wanna’ and give it to Holster so he can put it up in his classroom so all the little kids can see what they look like when they do exactly what you are doing now.” She said, without looking at him. 

“I don’t look like that.” He muttered, knowing that he was lying through his ass. He probably looked exactly like that, although he hadn’t yet resorted to tears. If he thought it would work, he’d try. 

“It’s a totally casual hangout, Jack.” She carried on, not even responding to his comment. “Shitty will probably be naked, Rans is gonna be stressed out to fuck because he’s up for promotion at work and you know he’s convinced himself they aren’t going to give it to a Siren, Chowder’s gonna spend all his time talking to Holster about the kids and Eric is probably going to spend all his time talking to the houseplants.” She paused to take a breath. “Be prepared for Farmer to be moulting. She’s not taking this pregnancy as good as the last one.”

“Is there something wrong?” Jack asked, sitting up a little. Farmer and Chowder had three kids and this last one was… not planned. 

“According to Rans, it’s fine. A few weird things on the scans but like… he’s a merman and she’s a Harpie so…” She shrugged. “And if things get too much for you, the kids’ll be there and you know how much you love them. You can steal them away to the garden and play with them if you get overwhelmed with us.”

“Who’s Eric?”

She smiled, looking back at her drawing. “He’s Shittys new BFF, brah.”

Jack blinked for a moment and then huffed out a laugh. “Is this the pie man he’s always talking about? The Kore?”

“They’re called Karpophoroi, now, Jack - Kore is so last millennium.” She winked at him and gave his shoulder a shove. “Actually, he doesn’t like to talk about it much - he’d rather be called a baker than anything else. The fact he’s going at all is… pretty impressive. I assume Shitty had to pull out the big guns. Like clothing.” 

Jack smiled softly and then put his head back on the floor. “I don’t want to bring everyone down.”

“I promise on all the little fishes in the sea that you will not regret showing up.” She pulled herself up to a sitting position and rubbed his back soothingly. “Jack, you know we love you all so much, right? No matter what.”

“Not even if I go insane and kill everyone?”

“Dragons don’t go insane and kill everyone.” She shot back. “Even ones without hordes, so don’t use that outmoded completely fabricated medieval bullshit on me. Unless, of course, you are planning on burning me at the steak like the wicked witch I am?” 

“I do think about it sometimes.” He admitted, before she launched herself on his back and tried to smoosh his face into the carpet in retaliation. 

* * *

 

When Jack arrived at Shitty and Lardo’s place - a shockingly normal looking house at the center of a cul de sac that opened out onto a well managed forest at the back, everyone else was already there. He could hear Chowder and Farmer trying to wrangle their kids around the back of the house where he just knew Shitty had taken the tarp off the pool so they could play. Two of them were water nymphs which meant that zero supervision was required around the pool and the eldest was a dragon, like Jack. At 6 years old though, she already had her horde and was adjusting just fine. Not like Jack at all. 

“Jacks here!” Holster yelled, loud and echoing - lord help the neighbors - as Shitty ran out from the side of the house and barreled into him full force. 

“My man! My best man! Bro of Bros!” A few kisses all over Jacks face seemed to settle him down a little and he pulled back. “Lards said you were gonna come but then like, you weren’t here and I was like, totally bummed but like, being cool, and now you’re here!” He paused. “And just so you know, like I might have eaten all the sugar. Bitty made like, 12 pies. 12. Jack, Jackie, baby. I cried.” 

Jack let himself be pulled around the house to the back garden, where, sure enough, the tarp was off the pool and the kids were playing a modified version of tag with Chowder, who had obviously been comfortable enough to change fully into his mako skin. Watching a shark chase three kids in a pool was always a sight that made Jack pause, but then his eye caught something. 

Something glowing.

“Jack!” Holster yelled, throwing himself at Jack, fully aware that a grown dragon was able to support the weight of a half shifted wolfman. “Dude, the pie,” He whispered, once his arms were around Jacks neck. “Get some before Farmer eats it all.” 

Jack nodded, giving his friend a tight hug back, before he scanned for whatever caught his attention earlier. 

There, sitting on the wooden bench, was a pie tin. Empty. But… 

Jack felt his fingers itch. It seemed to glow a little, just a bit, around the edges. He could see the crumbs around the sides, a little smear of what looked like some kind of dark red filling, but… the tin…

Jack was a dragon. His parents were dragons. His dad hoarded game winning pucks. His mother cufflinks. Jack, at 27 years old had never once, not once, found anything he ever wanted to have so bad his teeth hurt… and there it was. A pie tin.

He tried to keep it casual as he walked over to the table. It wasn’t the only pie tin. It was the only one he wanted though. Farmer - very heavily pregnant and sitting at the table with a plate stacked high with slices of pie gave him a look as he walked over. “Jack.” She smiled, and her teeth were stained blue. “I love you, but touch my food and I’ll drop kick you straight to valhalla, kay?”

He didn’t get a chance to reply.

“Uncle Jack!” three voices screamed from the pool, and as he turned to face the kids, Jacks fingers touched the pie tin. Which vanished without so much as a pop. 

* * *

 

He had a hoard. It was all he could think about as he listened to Ransom talk about his work at the hospital, or how Chowder gushed over how smart his kids were, or how Lardo talked about her latest art show. He could feel it, back at his apartment, safe. He could clean it, and look at it whenever he wanted. A dragon needed a hoard. And now he had one. 

Shitty was nowhere to be seen, apparently having convinced the Baker Eric to talk to his weed stash for a while to help it grow - but Jack didn’t care. He felt… calm. Secure. Kara sat on his lap, showing him how she could blow smoke rings from her mouth now, slowly changing her sun pink skin into dark blue scales as he held her close. She had a hoard, seashells, which she told him about in great detail until the others, who had heard about it all before, slowly stopped paying attention to what she was saying. 

“I saw you take the pie thing.” Kara said, snuggled up close, before kissing him on the cheek. “Are you less sad now?”

Jack flushed, but nodded. “Yeah.”

“Here be dragons.” She giggled, and he squeezed her tightly.

* * *

 

“I knew you only asked me here for this, you lying liar who lies.” Eric said, as he walked through the attic of Shitty’s shockingly suburban home. As he walked through, the plants reached down and touched him, his arms, legs, face. They seemed happy enough, even without real sunlight getting to them. Good earth, a healthy dose of nutrients in the soil and great drainage - there wasn’t a lot Eric needed to suggest. 

“They like you,” Shitty shrugged, “see? All being touchy feely. I want them to feel good, brah.They make us feel good, I pay em back in Bitty love.” 

Eric laughed, which caused a few of the plants to sway lightly, a couple of new buds popping open. “I also wanted you to meet Jack, like… bro needs some new bros, you know?”

That made Eric pause. Shitty and Lardo were very protective of Jack, they talked about him often, but the man kept very much to himself. “He’s here now.” Shitty admitted, “But like, he can be a bit… of a dick to new people.” He looked around. “I thought the plants might like, mellow you out, he’s been hanging out with the guys…”

“Are you… setting us up?” Eric asked, leaning back a little. It wasn’t the first time someone had tried to do so, but Shitty was famously protective of Jack. H wasn’t sure if he should be extremely flattered or nervous incase he messed it all up.

“Well, no, dude. That’s totally not cool.” Shitty said, brushing the suggestion off. “However,” He added, looking a little sly, “If like, two bros were to hit it off… then other bros would be less worried about said bros in the future…” 

“Does he know about this?”

“No. Lards had a hard enough time getting him here. He’s… like, he’s a great guy, he’s just…” A pause. “You know what, lets go meet him and he can be like, as open as he likes.” 

* * *

 

Jacks teeth started to itch the moment he heard a laugh coming from the house. Kara, who had been watching him change the skin on his arms to gold scales and back again, gave him a knowing look as his skin rippled quickly before settling. “Bitty isn’t as nice as shells,” She whispered. “But he makes the best pie.” 

“Eric,” Farmer said, arms open wide. “Please, sweep me off my feet and carry me to your castle of desserts.”

“Gross mamma!”  Holly said, her lil face scrunched up. “What about daddy?”

“Your father understands that I need pie.” Farmer said, sagely, as Eric walked into Jacks line of sight. 

* * *

 

When Jack had been very young, his parents had sat him down and told him a few things about being a Dragon. Firstly, a hoard doesn’t need to be big, or expensive, or even valuable. Jacks great grandfather had hoarded rocks with holes in them. He had a friend in school who hoarded those plastic pockets you put paper in. Secondly, you’ll know when it’s part of your hoard when you see it and it seems to glow a little. Not like a bright light, not like a sunbeam, but like… a little glow. Warm, inviting. The first thing you touch will end up in your safe place, your pile. After that, you’ll need to collect them all and take them there for safekeeping. And lastly, it cannot, and never can be, a person. 

* * *

 

Eric glowed. 

* * *

* * *

 

“Well, that went well.” Eric said, as he watched Jack - possibly the most stunningly beautiful man on the planet, take one look at him and promptly stand up and leave. 

* * *

* * *

 

Jack stood outside of the bakery for the 4th time that week, with yet another potted plant in his hand, and stalled. All he had to do was walk inside, say he was very sorry for being such a ‘giant dickweed of a douchebag’ (thanks, Lardo) and hand over the plant. He could do it. He just… he just… 

The bakery glowed. Not the whole thing, just little things. Like the chair outside he was absentmindedly running his fingers over. Or the yellow planter that he may have stolen the other day to add to his little pile of things. His Hoard. The other day he’d been looking at what to buy Kara for her birthday and he’d bought himself a stuffed rabbit because it just… felt right. Not perfect, but near enough. There was an ivy plant that was growing up and around the door that had a little shimmer to it that made him want to reach out and just take. People were walking in and out of the little shop, whatever they were buying in cute paper bags that made Jack want to tug them out of their hands and run. He sighed, put the plant on one of the tables by the door, and left.

* * *

 

“He was here again.” Dex said, as Eric brought through another tray of pastries. “He stood outside for like, 10 minutes this time and then he put the plant on the table and left. He didn’t steal anything this time though.” A pause. “I thought he was gonna take that little lattice chair thing you like so much, he kept touching it, but he didn’t.” 

Eric nodded, arranging the treats neatly in the case as Dex talked. This was the fourth time Jack had shown up - shown up and then left. “I still think we should call the cops.”

“We do not need to call the cops.” Eric sighed, closing the case. “Just go get the plant he brought please.”

The first plant had been a very lovely, and very expensive mature bonsai, at least a hundred years old, but the last three had been more… sedate. Eric was flattered. No one had ever bought him potted plants before - always thinking cut flowers or chocolate or wine were best. But these were… nice. The pots were unusual, bright colours. The last gift had been three types of ivy all growing together. He could tell even from where he was standing behind the counter that this was some type of herbs. Useful for a baker. 

He’d also stolen a planter. And, although Eric couldn't prove it because at the time he’d been more than a little flustered, his favorite pie tin that he’d taken to Shittys house. 

“He’s stalking you.” Dex said, before going outside to get the plant. 

Eric nodded absentmindedly. The plant was a mixture of herbs. A little wooden rabbit had been pushed into the soil. Dragons were very, very easy to research, after all. 

* * *

 

Jack walked up to the bakery with the planter in his hands. He’d gone to one of those ‘make your own’ places and he hoped that the sentiment was… better than whatever he was going to say. Because he was 100% sure he was going to mess it up. Again. He’d picked rosemary this time. He liked it, how it wasn’t too strong until you rubbed the leaves and then a punch of aroma would hit you. He’d carefully drawn a pie tin, a rabbit, and a yellow planter on the side of the pot before glazing it. However, when he got to the bakery, Eric was there. Outside. Sitting on the chair Jack was almost 90% sure he wasn’t going to steal. 

“Good morning Jack.” Eric said, brightly, like this was normal. A normal thing that they did. “I made sure that there was pie and a coffee for you this morning.” 

Jack floundered a little, before holding out the pot. “I got this. For you.”

Eric beamed as he held out his hands for the gift, as Jack smiled back, handing it over carefully. “Oh, I love rosemary.” Eric said, pointedly looking at the chair in front of him. “You know, it’s very often overlooked in cooking, but it can be used in so much more than lamb and potatoes.”

Jack, not really knowing what to do, sat down. “It’s so much nicer to have a talk, isn’t it, than you just stealing things and leaving.” Eric said, voice still very open and kind, despite what he was actually saying. 

“I, uh.” Jack said, knowing he was blushing to the very roots of his hair. 

“Oh, I almost forgot!” Eric said, reaching into his pocket and holding something out. It was small, and yellow. It glowed. “It’s my phone number.”

* * *

* * *

 

A hoard cannot be a person, Jack knew. He carefully peeled off the yellow post-it note Eric had left on the fridge before leaving for work and took it into the room where he kept his treasures. Everything glowed, warm, welcoming. A quilt that Erics grandmother had made him as a baby, a stuffed rabbit that he still slept with. An old worn out shirt of Jacks that he still sometimes wore when he was having a lazy day… sometimes a hoard can be all the little things that make up a person.

He carefully re-stuck the post-it to the mostly yellow wall and smiled at the framed picture of them, both in tailored suits. “Home is where the Hoard Is.” 

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I seriously have written nothing longer than a bullet fic in nearly a year, so this was... an education in why I need to keep active and keep writing. I know that this is a little on the sloppy side, but I hope as I get back into the swing of things that my writing will get back to level that it was.  
> Thank everyone for the comments and ongoing support that you have given me through the years, it's impossible to describe how much it's kept me going. 
> 
> This is a gift for Dragonscrawl who asked for some kind of Magical Realism and I hope that this does what you wanted - if not, let me know!!


End file.
